AND   OTHER   POEMS 


BY 


GRACE    GRISWOLD 


. 


LOVE   AND   THE   YEAR 

AND   OTHER   POEMS 


LOVE    AND    THE    YEAR 

AND    OTHER   POEMS 


AUTHOR  OF  "BILLIE'S  FIRST  LOVE" 
AND  "HIS  JAPANESE  WIFE" 


NEW     YORK 

DUFFIELD    &    COMPANY 
1910 


COPYRIGHT,  1910,  BY 
GRACE    GRISWOLD 


THE  TROW    PRESS,   NEW   YORK 


TO  MY  MOTHER 

Two  pictures,  dear, 

Before  me  here 
Are  smiling  on  me  while  I  write; 

The  same  kind  face, 

The  same  sweet  grace, 
The  same  expression,  good  and  bright. 

In  one  a  crown 

Of  wavy  brown 
Adorns  a  brow  unseamed  with  care. 

That  once  fair  brow 

Is  older  now 
And  clustered  round  with  soft  gray  hair. 

Though  age  may  place 

Upon  this  face 
Fresh  lines,  they're  lines  upon  a  scroll. 

They  can't  deface, 

They  only  trace 
Some  new  denotement  of  the  soul. 

A  published  page, 

The  face  of  age, 
The  record  life  has  written  there. 

What  youth  conceals 

Old  age  reveals, 
The  story  of  the  soul  laid  bare. 

High-mindedness 

And  kindliness 
And  love  are  written  in  this  face; 

I  could  not  spare 

A  furrow  there, 
Each  has  a  meaning  and  a  grace. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

DEDICATION — To  My  Mother 5 

LOVE   AND   THE   YEAR 9 

BRIDAL  SONG n 

LOVE'S  EMPIRE 13 

THE  SLEEPER 15 

THE  SHUTTLE 17 

SEPARATION 19 

NON  REQUIESCIT  IN  PACE 21 

THE  VACANT  HOUSE  I 23 

THE  VACANT  HOUSE  II 25 

A  LITANY 27 

SICK-BED  REVERIES 29 

RESERVES 31 

SONG  OF  THE  SOUL 33 

MOODS 35 

THE  STAR  AND  THE  SONG 37 

INCARNATUS 39 

THE  LEGEND  OF  ST.  VALENTINE  AND  THE  BLIND  GIRL       .  41 

LIFE,  JOY,  GRIEF 45 

7 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

VIA  VITAE        ....                      47 

A  PRAYER 49 

THE  HILL-TOP  AND  THE  VALLEY 51 

READJUSTMENT 53 

CONSTANCY 55 

A  GIFT 57 

FRIENDSHIP 59 

PHANTOMS 61 

MARGARET 63 

DOROTHY 65 

THANKSGIVING  DAY 67 

A  BUBBLE 69 

CHAMPAGNE  TOAST 71 

ANOTHER  TOAST 73 

To  A  PAIR  OF  BRIDAL  SLIPPERS 75 

FAIRY  SONG 77 

To  A  PARROT 79 

THE  ANIMALS  AT  THE  SHOW 81 

MOTHER  GOOSE  VARIANTS 83 

AT  A  DONKEY  PARTY 85 

OLD  PLANTATION  HYMN  (Revised)     ......  87 

WHO'S  A  HERO? 89 

CHRISTIAN  (?)  SCIENCE 93 


LOVE   AND   THE   YEAR 


OVER  the  hills  with  you,  dear, 
Over  the  hills  with  you, 
In  the  spring  of  the  year, 

When  the  blossoms  appear, 

When  new  life  is  springing  in  all  nature's  veins 
And  love-songs  are  ringing  in  myriad  strains, 
When  earth  and  the  air  are  all  fragrant  and  mellow 
And  each  living  thing  longs  to  mate  with  its  fellow, 
Over  the  hills  with  you. 

Over  the  hills  with  you,  dear, 

Over  the  hills  with  you. 
In  the  fall  of  the  year, 

When  the  meadows  are  sere, 
When  forests  flash  golden  and  red  in  the  sun 
And  harvested  fields  tell  of  work  that  is  done, 
When  winds  sing  a  requiem  over  the  flowers 
And  mournfully  sigh  for  the  lost  summer  hours, 

Over  the  hills  with  you. 


LOVE   AND   THE   YEAR 

Over  the  hills  with  you,  dear, 

Over  the  hills  with  you, 
All  through  the  year, 

Under  green  boughs  and  sere, 

For  what,  though  time  wrinkles  your  beautiful  face, 
It  adds  a  new  charm  to  your  sweet  spirit's  grace ; 
And  my  heart  thrills  afresh  as  I  think  of  the  store 
That  love  has  laid  up  for  our  souls  ever  more, 

Over  the  hills  with  you. 


10 


BRIDAL   SONG 

/TNHE  Sun-God  rose  from  out  the  sea 

JL    And  shed  his  glory  on  the  earth; 

So,  Sweet,  the  whole  world  smiled  to  me 

When  from  the  night  our  love  had  birth. 

The  Sun-God  kissed  the  frost  away 
And  warmed  the  north  wind's  wintry  strife 
So,  Sweet,  your  dear  lips  stole  one  day 
All  coldness  from  my  heart  and  life. 

The  sun  rose  high,  his  warm  embrace 
Shot  life  throughout  the  mellowed  earth ; 
So,  Sweet,  our  souls  beneath  love's  grace, 
Are  thrilling  with  a  new  life's  birth. 


XI 


LOVE'S  EMPIRE 

I  WOULD  I  were  the  sun,  that  I  might  dare 
To  gaze  unchecked  upon  your  lovely  face, 
I  would  I  were  the  breezes  of  the  air 
That  I  might  fold  you  in  a  rapt  embrace. 

I  would  I  were  the  page  beneath  your  look, 
That  so  my  inmost  heart  your  heart  might  read. 
I  would  I  were  the  thoughts  within  that  book, 
That  to  your  inmost  soul  my  soul  might  speed. 

I  would  I  were  the  draught  from  yonder  spring, 
Which  soon  unto  your  lips  will  find  the  way, 
I  would  like  yonder  linnet  I  might  sing 
And  make  sweet  music  for  you  all  the  day. 

I  envy  every  little  thing,  dear  heart, 
Which  has  upon  your  wish  the  slightest  call, 
I  would  I  might  the  universe  impart, 
Yet  be  myself  to  you  the  all  in  all. 

Oh,  love,  I  want  you  with  such  deep  desire, 
I  would  my  life  in  yours  might  through  and  through 
Be  fused  and  blended  by  love's  sacred  fire, 
Forever  knowing,  loving,  only  you. 

13 


THE    SLEEPER 

NEAR  by  his  measured  breathing  tells  that  sleep 
Holds  now  his  wearied  sense  in  gentle  fold. 
Ah !  favored  sleep,  that  dearest  form  to  hold, 
And  o'er  his  soul  a  cloistered  watch  to  keep. 
Why  may  not  I  upon  your  vigil  creep, 

And  all  the  tenderness  which  now  controlled 
Lies  buried  deep  within  my  heart,  make  bold 
Upon  his  rapt  unconsciousness  to  heap? 

I  on  his  lips  a  simple  kiss  would  press, 
So  light  it  should  not  break  the  slumber  spell ; 

And  stroke  his  hair  with  gentle,  soft  caress, 
And  murmur  in  his  ear  a  word — ah  well ! 

He  would  awaken.     I  must  then  confess. 
Sweet  Sleep,  you  are  a  better  sentinel. 


W1 


THE   SHUTTLE 

rHEN  up  from  night's  dim  margin  breaks  the 

dawn, 

With  ruddy  glow  illumes  the  eastern  skies, 
And  through  the  curtain-chinks  peers  in  mine  eyes, 
Bids  sleep  with  all  her  counterfeits  begone, 
Exchanging  light  and  life  for  visions  wan. 
One  vision  which  my  yearning  spirit  tries 
To  hold  a  little  longer  ere  it  dies, 

Dies  not,  but  in  my  waking  thoughts  lives  on. 

i 

And,  ever,  through  the  insistent  noisy  loom 

Of  day's  routine,  the  sweet  dream  comes  and  goes, — 
A  shuttle  weaving  through  the  dingy  gloom 

Of  common  tasks,  a  glowing  thread  of  rose. 
But  shall  the  dream  aught  but  a  dream  become? 

If  not,  then  what  is  life  to  me?    God  knows. 


SEPARATION 

I  THOUGHT  of  late  the  sun  had  grown  more  bright, 
A  new  effulgence  filled  the  heavenly  blue, 
The  woodland  green  had  caught  a  rarer  hue, 
And  moon  and  stars  more  beauteous  were  by  night, 
All  nature  seemed  to  pulsate  with  delight, 

And  even  friendly  greetings  rang  more  true, 
But  that  was  when  I  knew  them,  dear,  with  you, 
Ere  your  departure  cast  on  all  a  blight. 

But  now  the  face  of  nature  wears  a  frown, 
As  when  the  autumn  glow  has  passed  away 

And  left  the  woods  all  clad  in  sombre  brown, 
Whilst  creaking  limbs  their  withered  leaves  shake  down 

Now,  too,  the  friendly  round  is  cold  and  gray, 

As  if  with  you  had  passed  its  kindling  ray. 


NON   REQUIESCIT   IN   PACE 

THERE  lies  within  the  region  of  the  heart 
A  spot  which  may  by  none,  save  one  be  found, 
A  sad,  sad  spot,  from  all  the  rest  apart, 

Where  dead  hopes  lie  entombed, — a  burial  ground 

For  all  the  past;  the  sins,  the  pains  and  sighs 

And  hours  that  slipped  with  gladsome  speed  away, 

Swift  bearing  with  them  some  forbidden  prize, 
Too  sweet,  too  satisfying,  long  to  stay. 

'Mong  many  graves  that  all  unheeded  lie, 
With  names  forgotten  in  the  flight  of  years, 

Is  one  by  which  the  soul  doth  sit  and  sigh, 
Kept  green  by  many  a  copious  shower  of  tears. 

Here  lies  the  dear  companion  of  those  hours 
That  fled  away  like  winged  steeds  of  old 

Or  as  the  genial  Southland's  lovely  flowers, 

That  vanish  'neath  the  north  wind's  bitter  cold. 

It  is  the  grave  of  love  that  lies  so  green, 

Where,  in  the  wakeful  watches  of  the  night, 

Or  midday,  to  all  else  perhaps  serene, 

The  sad  soul  sits  and  grieves  upon  its  blight. 

21 


THE   VACANT   HOUSE 


I'VE  often  pondered  on  the  parable 
Of  him  who  cast  the  devil  from  his  soul, 
Who,  finding  his  retreat  unbearable, 
Returned  with  seven  others  far  more  foul. 
The  house  was  empty,  swept  and  garnish-ed, 
So  in  they  rushed  for  riot  all  athirst, 
And  of  that  man  the  Blessed  Savior  said, 
His  last  estate  was  far  worse  than  his  first. 
'Tis  not  enough,  to  banishment,  to  doom 
An  occupant  that  preys  upon  the  life; 
'Tis  not  enough  to  sweep  and  cleanse  the  room, 
It  must  be  filled  to  keep  that  house  from  strife. 
'Tis  little  use  to  cast  a  devil  out, 
Unless  an  angel  comes  to  hold  the  rout. 


THE   VACANT   HOUSE 


ii 


'  I  AHERE  is,  in  its  effect  upon  the  mind, 
J.     But  little  choice  between  the  thought  and  deed, 
And  every  action,  of  whatever  kind, 

Is  but  the  offspring  of  a  hidden  seed. 
Sometimes,  unconsciously,  an  evil  thought, 

In  life,  whose  outward  seeming  is  most  fair, 
Has  all  unseen  its  baleful  mischief  wrought, 

Till  by  some  sudden  exigence  laid  bare. 
Thus  unexpectedly  may  be  revealed, 

Perhaps  to  one  who  was  not  rightly  loved, 
A  power,  to  which  he  cannot  choose  but  yield, 

Although  by  better  instincts  disapproved. 
But  had  an  angel  come  that  house  to  share, 
No  other  guest  had  dared  to  enter  there. 


A   LITANY 

WHEN  the  nerves  are  tingling,  burning, 
When  the  brain  is  reeling,  turning, 
When  the  heart  is  sick  with  yearning, 

God  have  mercy  on  the  soul. 

When,  by  disappointment  maddened, 
Or  by  failure  deadened,  saddened, 
By  no  spark  of  courage  gladdened, 

God  have  mercy  on  the  soul. 

When  the  struggle  seems  unending 
For  a  prize  not  worth  the  spending, 
Death  with  life  for  choice  contending, 

God  have  mercy  on  the  soul. 

When  the  river  darkly  teeming 
Seems  to  call  beneath  its  gleaming 
To  the  sleep  which  hath  no  dreaming, 

God  have  mercy  on  the  soul. 


27 


SICK-BED    REVERIES 


in  the  dead  of  night, 
Sweet  on  the  ear  of  pain, 
Telling  of  hours  in  flight 
Never  to  come  again,  — 

Cock  'ere  the  peep  of  dawn, 
Herald  of  coming  day, 
Telling  of  darkness  drawn, 
Soon  now  to  steal  away,  — 

Bells  on  the  early  air, 
Calling  first  thoughts  above, 
Telling  of  praise  and  prayer, 
Due  to  the  King  of  Love,  — 

Sounds  of  the  city  life 
Wakening  one  by  one, 
Telling  of  endless  strife, 
Work  that  is  never  done,  — 

Sun  with  a  blasting  heat, 
Slums  with  a  pois'nous  breath, 
Telling  of   fevered   feet 
Treading  the  road  to  death,  — 

29 


LOVE   AND   THE   YEAR 

Sky  that  is  clear  and  broad, 
Land  of  productive  soil, 
Telling  of  gifts  of  God 
Meant  for  the  sons  of  toil, — 

Darkness  on  all  below 
Softly  descending, 
Telling  of  joy  and  woe 
Hid  in  death's  blending. 


RESERVES 

OWHY  are  these  treasures  withheld  all  about  us — 
The  wealth  that  the  ocean  will  never  upheave, 
The  blessings  of  nature  within  and  without  us, 
We  may  not  reveal  and  we  cannot  receive? 

The  violet  blooms,  which  no  eye  shall  discover, 
The  vine  holds  a  grape,  that  will  never  be  pressed, 
The  earth  clasps  a  jewel,  no  hand  shall  uncover, 
The  poet's  best  poem  is  never  expressed. 

The  dearest  love-story  may  never  be  uttered, 
Because  there's  so  often  a  bar  to  the  bower, 
And  only  by  one  can  that  guard  be  unshuttered 
And  that  one  is  bound  or  is  blind  to  his  power. 

Perhaps  for  a  time  some  rare  blessing  may  cheer  you, 
An  echo  of  heaven,  a  song  and  a  thrill, 
But  before  you  can  realize  heaven  is  near  you, 
The  blessing  has  passed  and  its  echoes  are  still, 

Then  why  do  men  starve,  with  abundance  beside  them? 
And  why  do  they  shiver,  who  stand  by  the  fire? 
And  why  do  they  grope,  with  a  beacon  to  guide  them? 
And  why  do  we  grovel,  while  yet  we  aspire? 

31 


LOVE  AND  THE  YEAR 

Though  gifts,  which  the  brain  and  the  heart  cannot  measure, 
Are  bursting  the  treasuries  in  and  about  us, 
Such  gifts,  as  to  give  and  receive  were  but  pleasure, 
Yet  the  world  wags  contentedly  onward  without  us. 

And  when  the  rapt  soul,  in  impulsive  upheaval, 
Its  untutored  message  outpours  on  the  world; 
It  may  be  received  in  a  coolness  quite  civil, 
Or  may  on  itself  be  indignantly  hurled. 

Or  when,  with  unauthorized  hand,  we  endeavor, 
Through  purpose  or  madness  to  grasp  at  a  prize; 
The  world  sets  the  thief-brand  upon  us  forever, 
And  to  the  lost  station  we  never  may  rise. 

And  yet  there's  an  instinct  in  every  man  living 
Asserting  a  right  in  these  treasures  of  life, 
A  right  of  receiving,  another  of  giving, 
The  right  to  attain  without  rancor  or  strife. 

And  the  right  to  assume  that  these  yearnings  within  us 
For  blessings  we  do  and  do  not  understand, 
Must  some  day  and  somewhere  the  privilege  win  us, 
To  give  and  receive  with  an  unreserved  hand. 


SONG   OF   THE   SOUL 

SOMETIMES  from  deepest  caverns  of  the  soul, 
Above  the  daily  pleasure,  pain  and  strife, 
That  babble  on  the  surface  of  our  life, 
A  voice  insistent  over  all  will  roll ; 

And  in  the  mighty  cadence  of  that  sound, 

Up-driven  from  the  hungry  void  below, 
Like  some  outburst  of  long-imprisoned  woe, 

All  other  clamor  is  absorbed  and  drowned: — 

"  What,  think  you  that  these  little  joys  and  thrills,— 
Pursuit  of  art,  of  science,  or  of  fashion, 
Of  work,  of  ease,  of  pleasure  or  of  passion, 
The  deep,  vast  yearning  of  the  spirit  fills? 

"  Where  friendship  dies,  if  not  by  effort  fanned, 
Where  pleasure  blanches  in  satiety, 
And  self-advancement  rules  society, 
Where  love  may  seldom  be  too  closely  scanned? 

"  Think  you  to  find  the  soul's  complete  desire, 

Where  even  rocks  may  crumble  and  decay, 
Where  blossoms  bloom  and  wither  in  a  day, 
Where  all  may  vanish  into  flood  and  fire? 

33 


LOVE   AND   THE   YEAR 

"  Ah,  no,  think  not  in  earthly  paths  to  find 

Aught  but  a  part,  a  fraction  of  the  whole, 
Of  that  great  gift,  shall  satisfy  the  soul, 
When  known  the  end  for  which  it  was  designed. 

"  Ah  happy  he,  whose  heart  is  still  ascendant 

Above  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  the  hour, 
Whilst  using  them  as  means  of  greater  power 
For  reaching  toward  the  blessing  all-transcendent." 


34 


MOODS 

WHEN  the  heart  is  full  of  gladness, 
When  it  sings  for  very  rapture, 
Rain  and  storm  and  tempest  even, 
In  their  fury   seem  rejoicing. 
Then  the  melancholy  sea-shore 
And  the  moaning  of  the  night  winds 
Laugh  through  all  their  minor  cadence 
At  the  very  thought  of  sorrow. 
Then  the  pensive,  purple  twilight 
Tempts  no  retrospective  yearning; 
And  the  sighing  of  the  fir  trees 
And  the  soughing  of  the  rushes 
Tell  no  mystery  of  grieving. 
Then  the  toiling  bell's  vibrations 
Do  not  waken  sad  reflections, 
Nor  the  chirping  of  the  crickets, 
Nor  the  croaking  of  the  marsh-frogs 
Stir  a  nameless,  restless  feeling, 
Nor  the  lonesome  hoot  of  night-owl 
Flood  the  soul  with  desolation. 

When  the  heart  is  full  of  gladness, 
When  it  sings  for  very  rapture, 
Nature's  darkest  shadows  brighten 
And  earth  palpitates  with  glory. 

35 


LOVE   AND   THE   YEAR 

When  the  heart  has  lost  its  lightness, 
And  the  spirit  flags  and  falters, 
Then  the  wholesome  glow  of  sunshine 
Seems  a  melancholy  gilding. 
Then  the  carols  of  the  song-birds 
Jar  upon  discordant  heart-strings, 
While  the  azure  depths  of  heaven 
Mock  imprisoned  aspiration. 
Then  the  torrent,  madly  dashing 
From  its  rocky  promontory, 
Speaks  of  life  in  pride  of  conquest, 
In  the  height  of  glory,  stricken. 
Then  is  sweet  perfume  of  roses, 
But  the  scent  of  joy  departed. 

When  the  heart  has  lost  its  lightness, 
When  the  spirit  flags  and  falters, 
Then  the  minor  strains  of  nature, 
Through  the  soul  reverberating, 
Echo  with  a  sad  insistence. 


THE   STAR   AND   THE   SONG 

A  SONG  in  the  air  and  a  star  in  the  heaven, 
Which  now  bendeth  low  a  great  gift  to  impart; 
That  great  gift  was  love,  and  still  it  is  given 
Where  a  star  lights  the  soul  and  a  song  fills  the  heart. 

The  star  guideth  upward  the  thought  of  the  life 
And  the  song  in  the  heart  meaneth  peace  and  good  will ; 
For  love  cannot  live  amidst  rancor  and  strife 
Nor  from  aught  unholy  its  perfume  distill. 

It  was  deep  in  the  mid-night  whilst  all  the  world  slept 
That  the  holiest  love  which  the  earth  has  e'er  known, 
Amid  singing  of  angels,  from  heaven  down-leapt 
By  the  light  of  a  star  to  a  stall  from  a  throne. 

So  love  that  is  noble  and  love  that  is  sure 
Comes  not  in  the  bustle  and  glare  of  the  world; 
But  only  in  hearts  that  are  simple  and  pure 
Is  the  Christ-love  in  all  of  its  beauty  unfurled. 


37 


INCARNATUS 

AN  angel  watching  o'er  the  earth 
Adown  the  ages  from  creation 
And  sadly  waiting  for  a  pause 

In  nation's  bitter  strife  with  nation, 

At  last  beheld  the  promised  time 

When  warlike  banners  all  were  furled 
While  gentle  peace,  with  olive  crowned, 

Walked  joyously  throughout  the  world. 

So  when  the  night  had  fully  come, 

Which  was  to  see  the  Savior's  birth, 
As  if  the  universe  scarce  breathed, 
Deep  stillness  fell  upon  the  earth; 

And  shepherds,  gazing  at  the  stars, 

Imagined  they  were  drawing  nigh 

With  swift  and  noiseless  step  across 

The  midnight  velvet  of  the  sky; 

Till  all  at  once  they  seemed  to  merge 

And  lose  their  shapes  in  gushing  light, 

And  color  palpitating  on 

The  startled  bosom  of  the  night. 

39 


LOVE   AND   THE   YEAR 

An  angel  presently  emerged 

From  out  the  brightness  overhead. 
The  shepherds  fell  upon  the  ground 

In  fear  and  trembling,  men  half  dead. 

But  soothingly  the  angel  spake 

And  told  them  of  the  Savior's  birth 
From  whom  new  life  and  joy  should  flow 

To  all  the  peoples  of  the  earth. 

Forthwith  a  host  of  angels  sang 

Of  glory  unto  God  most  high, 

Of  peace,  good  will  toward  men,  like  bells 
Sweet  ringing  down  the  radiant  sky. 

But  fainter  grew  the  song,  until 

It  drew  up  into  heaven  once  more, 

The  light  had  gone.    Again  the  stars 

Were  shining  as  they  shone  before. 

The  shepherds  rose  and  sought  the  child 

And  worshipped  him  on  bended  knee; 

No  richer  gift  had  they,  nor  needed, 

Than  their  sweet  faith's  entirety. 

They  first  to  hear  the  Gospel  note, 

They  first  to  greet  the  Advent  Lord 

Whose  lives  through  simple  duties  ran, 

Whose  minds  no  worldly  wisdom  stored. 


40 


THE  LEGEND    OF   ST.   VALENTINE   AND 
THE   BLIND   GIRL 

A  FLOOD  of  moonlight  on  the  city  lay, 
All  silent  were  her  light-and-shadowed  streets, 
Save  where  the  watchman  paced  his  quiet  round 
And  Meta  Sudens'  sparkling  water  rose 
To  fall  again  with  melancholy  plash. 
Fair  Rome !  how  beautiful  beneath  the  moon 
Now  slept  her  temples,  marts  and  palaces ! 
But  dark,  amidst  the  whiteness  all  around, 
Colossal  Nero  stood,  a  mass  of  bronze — 
A  fearsome  symbol  of  those  evil  times. 
There,  drunk  with  blood  of  saints  and  still  as  death, 
The  mighty  Flavian  Amphitheatre  glowered 
From  darkened  archways  on  the  bloodstained  ring, 
Its  giant  statues  traversed  phantom-like 
By  spectral  shadows  from  the  drifting  clouds, 
Until  they  seemed  to  shudder  and  recoil 
From  scenes  which  men  had  revelled  in  that  day. 
A  sudden  roar  from  out  the  lions'  den — 
An  oath,  a  lash,  and  silence  reigned  once  more. 
Most  dread  of  all,  the  prison  Mamartine, 
Where  Paul  the  Apostle  once  a  captive  lay, 
Loomed  grim  against  the  sky. 

41 


LOVE   AND   THE   YEAR 

There,  on  this  night, 

When  spring's  first  softness  filled  the  fragrant  air, 
St.  Valentine  his  painful  vigil  kept, 
Awaiting  eagerly  the  morn,  when  he, 
Through  martyr's  death,  should  join  the  heavenly  throng. 
But  hark !  the  bolt  withdraws,  Nerea  comes, 
The  jailor's  fair  blind  daughter,  bringing  fruit 
And  wine  and  food  to  Valentine,  and  begs 
That  he  will  pardon  her  delay,  as  she 
Was  stayed  unwillingly.     "  I  dared  not  come 
Till  all  was  still.    Ah,  that  I  might  do  more 
To  ease  thy  pain." 

"  Hush,  child,  'twill  soon  be  gone." 
She  took  the  hand  he  laid  upon  her  head, 
And,  kissing  it,  placed  violets  therein, 
Which  she  had  gathered  from  the  Tiber's  bank. 
A  moment  on  the  sad,  sweet  face  he  looked, 
The  large  eyes,  dark  and  void,  the  girlish  form 
Just  rounding  into  lovely  womanhood, 
And  suddenly,  up  through  his  lonely  heart 
A  wave  of  feeling  long  imprisoned  rose 
And  flooded  all  his  being;  but,  just  then, 
The  lamp  flared  up  and  shone  upon  the  cross. 
Impulsively  he  crushed  within  his  hands 
The  violets  she  brought,  and  through  the  cell 
There  stole  a  perfume  like  the  breath  of  spring. 
She  marvelled  till  he  said,  "  Thus,  child,  the  heart 
Once  broken  by  the  loving  hand  of  God 
Breathes  forth  a  heavenly  fragrance  on  the  world." 
"  I  know,"  replied  the  girl,  "  that  sorrow  borne 
With  patience  brings  us  happiness  at  last. 
When  with  my  playmates  I  was  wont  to  roam 
In  springtime,  through  the  gardens,  woods  and  fields, 

42 


ST.   VALENTINE   AND   THE   BLIND   GIRL 

I  often  wondered  at  their  ecstasy, — 

What  golden  sunshine  meant  and  purple  flowers; 

And  once,  when  Fabia  bade  me  see  myself 

Repeated  in  the  fountain  at  our  feet, 

I  cried,  '  For  shame  to  say  what  cannot  be ! ' 

But  softly  then  one  whispered  :  '  Hush,  she's  blind  ! ' 

And  so  I  knew  at  last  what  blindness  meant 

And  through  my  heart  a  bitter  sadness  crept, 

But  thou  hast  shed  the  light  of  heaven  there." 

St.  Valentine,  with  thoughtful  pity,  gazed 
Upon  the  sightless  girl  and  said,  "  My  child, 
I've  prayed  for  thee  by  night  and  day ;  Thou  too, 
If  this  shall  come  to  pass,  must  pray  for  faith. 
At  midnight  come  again.     The  viands  take, 
For  '  this  kind  goeth  not,  except  by  fast 
And  prayer.' " 

At  midnight  came  the  girl  again 
And  drew  the  bolt,  but  silence  reigned  within. 
She  feared  she  knew  not  what,  till  listening  heard 
The  measured  breathing  of  the  praying  saint. 
Thus  reassured  she  waited  silently. 
He  heard  her  not,  for  he  was  vision-rapt, 
And  seemed  among  the  throng  that  followed  Christ, 
When  Bartimaeus  by  the  roadside  sat. 
He  saw  the  miracle  of  healing  done, 
And  felt  the  Savior  turn  and  look  on  him 
With  love  and  approbation,  and  he  knew 
The  sweet  assurance  meant  his  prayer  was  heard. 
Then,  conscious  of  another  presence  there, 
He  bade  her  come. 

She  knelt,  her  eyes  upturned 
And  bright  with  tears,  while  fervently  he  prayed: 

43 


LOVE   AND   THE   YEAR 

"  Dear  Lord,  now  graciously  send  down  Thy  light 

On  this  Thy  child,  that  as  Thy  blessed  Truth 

Has  banished  darkness  from  her  soul,  so  from 

Her  mortal  eyes  the  veil  may  be  withdrawn. 

'  As  is  thy  faith,  so  be  it  unto  thee.'  " 

A  shudder  passed  throughout  her  frame,  and  then, 

As  when  the  day  breaks  on  a  sleeping  sea, 

A  new  strange  light  suffused  her  eyes.     They  sought 

St.  Valentine's.    The  lamp-light  flickered  out — 

She  needed  it  no  more,  but  wondered  why 

She  had  not  heard  the  human  face  was  like 

The  sun  and  shed  a  glory  round  about. 


44 


LIFE,   JOY,   GRIEF 

WHAT  is  life  but  what  we  make  it? 
What  is  joy  unless  we  take  it? 
Where  is  grief,  when  we  forsake  it? 

Joy  is  goodness  inward  shining. 
Grief,  oft'  selfishness  repining. 
Life  is  colored  by  its  lining. 


45 


VIA  VITAE 

T    IFE  has  cross-ways, 
L/      Life  has  by-ways, 
We  ourselves  would  not  select, 
But  these  by-ways 
Lead  to  high-ways 
Grander  than  we  dared  expect. 

Be  they  cross-ways, 
Be  they  by-ways, 

Or  where  never  man  has  trod, 
Cross-ways,  by-ways — 
Make  them  high-ways, 

Leading  onward  to  your  God. 


47 


A   PRAYER 

OH  give  me  a  heart  that  is  pure  to  its  core, 
And  give  me  an  open  mind, 
To  receive  from  nature  and  life  the  ore, 
And  yield  it  again  refined. 

Let  also  the  marge  of  the  smelter  be 
As  wide  as  the  sun-bound  day, 

And  love  the  flame  of  life  in  me 
To  melt  its  dross  away. 


49 


THE   HILL-TOP   AND   THE   VALLEY 

WHY  grieve  for  the  hill-top  beyond  you, 
When  the  valley  is  sweet  and  serene? 
Why  rail  at  the  weeds  growing  round  you, 
When  flowers  are  nestled  between? 

Tread  gently,  tread  gently,  my  brother, 

For  look  you,  deep  down  in  the  grass, 

Is  a  blossom  that  blooms  for  no  other, 

To  sweeten  your  way  as  you  pass. 


READJUSTMENT 

"TMS  the  harrow  of  grief  and  the  moisture  of  tears 

J_      That  will  keep  the  heart  mellow  and  tender, 
And  'tis  often  beneath  the  cold  snows  of  neglect 
That  the  fairest  of  blossoms  engender; 

But  alas  for  the  heart  that  persistently  clings 
To  the  harrow  and  moisture  and  cold, 

For,  though  blossoms  may  bloom,  it  is  sunshine  alone, 
That  can  tempt  the  rich  fruit  to  unfold. 

Then,  if  you  can't  have  the  one  thing  that  you  want, 
There's  but  one  thing  to  do  in  that  case, 

Just  to  want  what  you  have,  for  God  shines  over  all, 
If  you'll  only  look  up  in  His  face. 


53 


CONSTANCY 

AS  passing  through  this  world  of  misconception, 
Where  actions  do  not  always  speak  the  heart, 
Where  confidence  is  shattered  by  deception 
And  slander  even  breaks  true  friends  apart, 

How  comforting  a  friend  who  is  not  shaken 
By  what  appear  backslidings  in  our  lives, 
Assuming  howsoe'er  we  are  mistaken, 
Within  the  soul  an  honest  purpose  thrives. 


55 


A   GIFT 

WHAT  tribute  can  I  pay  to  thee,  dear  friend, 
Who  hast  of  fortune's  gifts  so  full  a  share, 
That  were  I  all  my  means  and  wit  to  spend, 
The  purchase  with  thine  own  would  ill  compare? 

Yet  may  this  bit  of  handiwork  enwrought 
About  with  love  and  care  of  thee,  still  meet 
The  welcome  that  a  richer  gift  had  brought, 
If  giver's  love  can  make  acceptance  sweet. 


57 


FRIENDSHIP 

THINK  there  is  no  finer  name  on  earth  than  that  of 
friend, 
For  all  relations  else  in  that  one  term  begin  and  end. 


I 


The  father — he  is  scarce  a  friend  when  deaf  to  childhood's 

call, 
While  husband,  wife,  alas,  are  often  hardly  friends  at  all; 

And  mother-love,   the   strongest  love,  is  sometimes  at  the 

core, 
A  tyranny  of  selfishness,  brute  instinct,  nothing  more. 

The  bonds  of  kinship  often  grow  first  irksome  and  then  slack 
And  shift  their  obligations  to  the  nearest  passing  hack; 

And  sweet-hearts,  ah !  with  nothing  else,  the  flimsiest  sort  of 

tie, 
The  closest  chums,  perhaps,  to-day,  and  strangers  by  and 

by. 

But  there  is  something  firm  and  fine  about  the  friendly  bond, 
Without  it  every  other  state  is  built  on  shifting  ground; 

59 


LOVE   AND   THE   YEAR 

And  love  itself,  without  that  guide,  like  Phoebus  drives  it 

blind 
And  leaves  a  wreckage  in  its  track  of  shattered  heart  and 

mind. 

And  yet,  as  all  are  human,  even  friendship  may  succumb 
To  stress  of  human  weakness  when  the  hours  of  trial  come ; 

As  Peter  once  denied  his  Lord,  then  wept  in  bitter  shame, 
And  lived  to  be  his  friend  indeed,  a  martyr  to  his  name. 

So  every  friend,  whate'er  he  be,  a  simple  friend,  no  other, 
Or  still  a  friend,  while  bearing  name  of  sweetheart,  hus- 
band, brother, 

Though  he  may  sometime  fail  to  stand  as  high  as  once  he 

stood, 
He  will  not  rest  till  he  has  tried  to  make  that  failure  good, 

If  underneath,  abiding  yet,  his  heart  is  kind  and  true, 
And  still  he  finds  sweet  friendship's  code,  "  noblesse  oblige  " 
in  you. 

So  friendship  thrives,  like  love,  on  what  each  in  the  other 

finds, 
The  tie  of  fellow-service  is  the  only  tie  that  binds. 


60 


PHANTOMS 

COME  on,  ye  flitting  phantoms  of  the  night, 
That  glint  and  vanish  in  the  moon-lit  brain, 
Like  love,  enticed  by  some  false  beacon  light, 
Recoiling  to  its  hidden  realm  again. 

Whence  come  these  vague  and  evanescent  forms, 
That  baffle  every  grasp  of  searching  thought; 
As  windswept,  vap'rous  blasts  of  midnight  storms, 
From  void  to  void  through  rigging  pass  uncaught? 

What  are  these  phantoms  ?    Gems  of  thought  unborn, 
Great  inspirations  falling  half  concealed, 
"Which  common  minds  will  only  heed  to  scorn, 
Till  genius  has  their  hidden  worth  revealed. 


61 


MARGARET 

r  I  AHE  monarch  in  our  house 
_L       Is  dimpled  o'er  with  smiles. 
The  sceptre  that  she  wields, 

Her  winning  little  wiles. 

She  wears  a  golden  crown, 

Spun  fine  of  baby  hair, 

She  mounts  a  higher  throne 
Than  any  royal  chair. 

Her  subjects  gather  round 

And  kiss  her  little  hand, 

And  fly  with  willing  feet 

To  do  her  least  command. 

She  lays  a  mighty  toll 

Oar   fealty  to  prove, 

But  the  tribute  that  we  pay 

Is  drawn  in  drafts  of  love. 


DOROTHY 

NEVER  cloud  so  glowing 
At  the  break  of  day, 

As  the  rose-bloom  showing 
In  her  cheek  alway. 

Never  eyes  were  brighter 

In  their  depths  of  blue, 

Never  step  was  lighter, 

Never  heart  so  true, 

Never  heart  so  weary, 

But  when  she  draws  nigh, 

With  her  spirit  cheery, 

Quite  forgets  to  sigh. 


THANKSGIVING   DAY 

SNOW  glints  from  the  side-walks  and  fences, 
With  frost  in  the  wintry  north  wind, 
But  now,  friends,  the  good  cheer  commences, 

And  glows  through  the  closely-drawn  blind. 

Now  comes  with  an  odor  appealing 

The  turkey  so  chesty  and  grand 

And  covers  but  partly  concealing 

The  rarest  good  things  in  the  land. 

A  pop  and  a  sparkle  and  bubble, 

A  jest  and  the  laughter  rings  gay 

And  Care,  with  his  basket  of  trouble, 
Is  banished  completely  away. 

So  here's  to  the  lord  of  the  revel, 

His  lady  and  each  charming  guest, 

And  here's  to  the  absent,  poor  devil, 

And  here's  to  the  one  we  love  best. 


A   BUBBLE 

WITHIN  this  cup  of  golden  wine, 
A  thousand  little  bubbles  wake 
Far  down  within  its  deepest  shrine 
Then  upward  fly  until  they  break. 

But  from  a  far  more  sacred  shrine 
Filled  with  a  choicer  draught  than  this, 
The  spirit  of  another  wine 
Flies  upward,  breaking  in  a  kiss. 


CHAMPAGNE   TOAST 

AS  from  these  depths  of  golden  wine 
The  little  bubbles  upward  start, 
Like  thoughts  which  rise  from  heart  to  lips 
That  ever  rise,  and  so  depart, 

So  rises  from  my  heart  this  wish, 
On  little  prayer-bulbs  upward  borne, 
That  every  rose  which  blooms  for  you 
May  be  a  rose  without  a  thorn. 


ANOTHER   TOAST 

HERE'S  a  pledge  to  the  truth  in  those  bonnie  brown  eyes, 
And  the  humor  that  sparkles  there  too, 
With  a  nature  as  sunny  as  fair  summer  skies, 
And  a  heart  that  is  loyal  and  true; 

For  nothing  on  earth  can  do  quite  so  much  good 
As  a  face  brimming  over  with  light, 
So  here's  to  the  man,  who  whatever  his  mood, 
Sheds  an  influence  cheery  and  bright. 


73 


TO   A   PAIR   OF   BRIDAL   SLIPPERS 

SOME  day  (it  is  the  usual  way) 
When  honeymoon  has  passed  away 
And  years  have  brought  a  dear  increase 
That  often  mars  domestic  peace, — 

Some  day  (it  is  the  usual  way) 
When  parents  must  assert  their  sway, 
These  meek  and  harmless  bridal  slippers 
May  serve  a  turn  as  youthful  flippers. 


75 


FAIRY   SONG 

COME  Jack-o'-lantern,  goblin,  sprite, 
Come  fairies  all  together, 
From  fen  and  forest  speed  your  flight, 
Come,  'tis  the  magic  hour  of  night, 
All  in  mid-summer  weather. 

Come  bull-frog,  bring  your  big  bass  drum, 

Come  small  frogs  all  together, 
Come  owl  and  bat  and  cricket  come, 
And  nightingale,  stay  not  at  home, 

Sing  sweet  the  summer  weather. 

Now  sleep  has  drowned  the  mortal  world, 

Come  sing  we  all  together 
And  dance  in  fairy  mazes  whirled, 
By  mystic  moon-beam  palely  pearled, 
All  in  mid-summer  weather. 


77 


TO   A   PARROT 

POLLY  with  the  festive  coat, 
And  such  a  solemn  little  face, 
Tell  us  what  distorted  fancies 

Through  your  busy  noddle  chase. 

Don't  you  know  'tis  very  rude 

To  interject  your  senseless  babble? 
Geese  and  women-kind  reserve 

Exclusively  the  right  to  gabble ; 

But  please  tell  us  how  you  manage 

Not  to  be  a  tiresome  bore, 
Yet  repeat  so  many  times 

The  same  remark  you  made  before. 

What  a  triumph  for  the  lazy, 
What  economy  of  brain, 
On  a  round  of  hackneyed  phrases 
Always  fresh  applause  to  gain! 

What  excuse  have  you  to  live, 

You  brawling,  screeching  little  sinner, 
Stealing  other  people's  wit, 

Existing  only  for  your  dinner? 

79 


LOVE   AND   THE   YEAR 

Polly,  no,  that  were  a  libel, 

For  your  comicality 
Often  turns  some  painful  train 

Of  thought  to  one  of  jollity. 

When  the  conversation  runs 

Too  close  to  personality, 
Frequently  you  change  the  theme 

By  some  droll  whimsicality. 

When  you  cry  "  sing  tra  la  la  " 

And  dance  and  laugh  with  all  your  might, 
We  were  fossilized  indeed 

To  merry  not  at  such  a  sight. 

Polly  with  the  bright  green  coat 

And  Roman  nose  and  pink  cravat, 

Brown  eyes  with  their  roguish  wink 

And  yellow  gloves  and  snow-white  hat, 

Yes,  we  like  you  for  your  tattle, 

All  your  funny  little  ways. 
You  shall  dance  and  screech  and  prattle, 

For  so  you  brighten  all  our  days. 


80 


THE   ANIMALS   AT   THE   SHOW 

FOUR  animals  went  to  see  the  show, 
A  pole-cat,  duck,  a  frog  and  lamb, 
And  at  the  door  each  handed  in, 

The  currency  of  Uncle   Sam. 

"  Who'll  go  in  first?  "  quacked  Mrs.  Duck, 
The  biggest  talker  of  the  four, 

"  Why  I,  of  course,"  croaked  Mr.  Frog, 

And  showed  his  green-back  at  the  door. 

And  while  they  questioned  who'd  go  next, 
A  bee  came  by  and  buzzed  of  honey, 

So  sweetly,  that  the  door-man  quite 

Forgot  to  ask  her  for  the  money. 

Too  late  he  tried  to  call  her  back, 

The  inner  door  behind  her  swung, 

And  as  she  disappeared  they  thought 

They  heard  him  hiss  the  one  word,  "  stung. 

"  Now  Mr.  Lamb,  let's  see  you  try," 

Said  Mr.  Pole-cat  with  a  grin, 
"Four  quarters?"  asked  the  door-man  then, 

"  Yes,  qtaite  correct,  sir,  walk  right  in." 
81 


LOVE   AND   THE   YEAR 

"  Well,  I'll  be—"    "  Never  mind,  my  dear," 
Said  Mrs.  Duck,  "  Now  watch  me  go ; 

"  I  made  a  run  on  the  bank  to-day, 
So  I've  a  little  bill  to  show." 

"  Step  lively,"  then  the  door-man  cried, 

And  Mr.  Pole-cat  scratched  his  head, 

"  I  trust  you'll  let  me  in,  sir,  though 
I've  only  got  a  scent,"  he  said. 

"  A  cent,  indeed !  "  the  pole-cat  paled, 
He  saw  the  man  was  getting  mad, 

"  A  scent,  indeed,"  he  held  his  nose, 

"  Get  out  of  here,  the  cent  is  bad." 

The  pole-cat  started  down  the  road, 

Indignant,  grieved  and  mortified, 

When  rolling  toward  him  through  the  dust, 
A  hoop-snake  presently  he  spied. 

And  to  the  snake  he  told  his  tale, 

"  Now  was  it  right  my  cent  to  spurn?" 
"  Don't  bother  me,"  the  hoopsnake  hissed, 

"  You  see  I've  got  to  '  do  a  turn.' " 

A  sardine  next  the  story  heard. 

"  I  know,"  said  he,  "  just  how  you  felt; " 
"  I've  often  met  with  sleights  myself, 

Because  my  family  is  Smelt." 

"  But  come  with  me ;  I've  got  the  means 
Whereby  to  fix  the  measly  fox; 

He  can't  refuse  us  now,  my  friend, 

Because,  you  see,  I've  got  my  box." 
82 


MOTHER   GOOSE   VARIANTS 

THE  cow  that  jumped  the  moon  went  back 
To  the  old  sky  farm  one  day 
And  now  she  runs  a  dairy  in 
The  good  old  Milky  Way. 

Humpty  Dumpty  went  to  the  show, 

But,  alas,  the  play  was  bad. 

"  Aha  !  "  said  one,  "  here's  an  egg  to  throw." 

Yes,  weep,  for  the  tale  is  sad. 

The  bachelor  took  to  himself  a  wife, 
To  end  his  single  trouble, 
But  found  that  one  and  one  make  two 
And  single  troubles  double. 


AT   A   DONKEY   PARTY 

'T^HERE  once  was  a  donkey  quite  queer 
J.     Whose  tail  would  at  times  disappear, 
And  when  it  returned, 
It  disdainfully  spurned 
To  alight  at  its  place  in  the  rear. 


OLD    PLANTATION    HYMN    (Revised) 

OH,  dee  cas'  ole  Dan'l  in  de  lion's  den, 
All  night  long. 

De  lions  skeered  to  tech  him,  'cause  de  Lawd  was  Dan'l's 
frien' 

All  night  long. 

An'  dee  sniff,  an'  dee  sniff,  an'  dee  sniff  him  out  again. 
But  who's  gwine  to  deliver  me? 

Ole  Jonah  he  dun  sot  in  de  bosom  ob  de  whale, 

All  night  long. 
De  whale  he  dun  lash  an'  he  splash  wid  his  tail, 

All  night  long. 
An'  he  say  to  Jonah,  "  Do  you  take  me  foh  a  jail?" 

But  who's  gwine  to  deliver  me? 

Ole  'Lijah  got  so  good  dat  dee  wouldn't  have  him  'round, 

All  night  long. 
An'  dere  come  a  firey  chariot  an'  hit  took  him  off  de  ground, 

All  night  long. 
An'  his  overcoat  and  handkerchief  was  all  dee  ever  found, 

But  who's  gwine  to  deliver  me? 

87 


LOVE    AND    THE    YEAR 

Pharaoh's  daughter  got  to  thinkin'  how  she'd  like  to  have  a 
chile 

All  night  long. 
An'  Moses  was  alyin'  in  de  rushes  all  de  while, 

All  night  long. 

An'  she  fin'  him  an'  she  say:  "I'll  jes'  take  him  home  on 
tri'l !  " 

But  who's  gwine  to  deliver  me? 


88 


WHO'S   A   HERO? 

HERE'S  nae  sic  thing,"  the  Scotchman  said, 
JL    "  If  you  will  aye  pursuit  it, 
As  rale  unselfishness,  the  kind, 
That  has  nae  string  tied  to  it." 

An  ancient  earl  upreared  a  church, 
With  monks  and  learning  filled  it, 

But  ravaged  all  the  country  round 
For  men  and  means  to  build  it. 

The  modern  rich  man  builds  and  names 

The  modern  institution, 
But  does  his  ravaging  by  law 

To  forestall  retribution. 

Our  fathers  fought  for  liberty 
'Gainst  all  who  should  upset  it: — 

That's  liberty  for  me — and  you — 
(That  is,  if  you  can  get  it). 

"  We're  all  born  free  and  equal,"  says 

Our  infant  Declaration, 
But  such  a  theory,  of  course, 

Admits  of — explanation. 

89 


LOVE   AND   THE   YEAR 

The  rights  of  property  trace  back 
To  him  who  simply  took  it, 

And  gave  it  to  his  heirs,  when  he, 
By  death  compelled,  forsook  it. 

So  what  are  they  but  sharers  in 

The  spoils  of  devastation? 
Then  why  be  proud  of  what  at  best 

Is  only  spoliation  ? 

"  The  world  owes  me  a  living,"  says 

A  later  thief,  "  bestow  it. 
Nine  points  are  not  possession,  for 

The  tenth  is  mine,  I'll  show  it." 

And  if  he's  big  enough  to  take 
A  new  and  dazzling  chance, 

A  magnate  he  may  be  proclaimed, 
A  master  of  finance. 

But  let  the  petty  thief  attempt 

In  simpler  ways  to  do  it, 
He'll  get  the  chance  to  plan   (in  jail) 

More  safely  to  pursue  it. 

And  let  the  dazzling  venture  fail 
Through  some  slight  indiscretion, 

A  suicide,  no  doubt,  will  prove 
His  tenth  point  in  possession. 

But  there's  a  gentler  selfishness, 
Life  would  be  sad  without  it, 

Which  seeks  its  happiness  in  that 
Of  others  round  about  i* 
90 


WHO'S    A    HERO? 

This  man  converts  his  country-side 

To  dwellings  for  the  needy, 
It  pleases  his  paternal  heart 

And  no  one  calls  him  greedy. 

Another  builds  a  Settlement 
To  culture  those  who  need  it, 

He  has  the  altruistic  taste 
And  barters  all  to  feed  it. 

The  mother  lives  and  loves  and  toils 
And  spends  her  soul  for  others, 

She  may  be  thanked,  she  may  be  blamed, 
It  is  the  way  with  mothers. 

The  daily  martyrdom — too  late 

The  little  tombstone  names  it. 
The  meteoric  sacrifice — 

All  history  proclaims  it. 

But  just  because  the  human  heart 

Is  such  a  selfish  budget, 
We  worship  those  who  give  their  lives 

And  do  not  seem  to  grudge  it. 


CHRISTIAN    (?)    SCIENCE 

WE  all  are  so  good, 
If  we  sit  down  and  brood 

On  the  goodness  and  "  allness  "  within  and  without  us, 
We  need  have  no  fear 
Our  crackers  and  beer 
Will  flow  from  the  "  allness  "  and  goodness  about  us. 

Of  course,  "  there's  no  evil," 

'Twould  be  most  uncivil 
To  make  us  imperfect,  then  send  us  to  thunder. 

"  There's  nothing  but  Love  " 

In  the  heavens  above, 
The  pockets  of  men  and  the  hearts  that  beat  under. 

"  There  can  be  no  trouble  " 

The  body's  a  bubble — 
It's  all  a  mistaken  "  belief  "  and  a  dreaming. 

God  made  us  to  fool  us 

Till  some  one  should  school  us 
To  see  what  we  see  to  be  only  a  seeming. 

"  We're  nothing  but  spirit  " — 
We  really  don't  hear  it, 
Or  smell  it,  or  taste,  or  see  it,  or  feel  it. 

93 


LOVE   AND   THE   YEAR 

"  There  is  no  sensation," 
Except  the  temptation 
To  think  what  we  think,  when  we  think  we  can't  heal  it. 

This  spirit  or  mind 

Was  created  so  blind 
We're  all  of  us  nursing  some  little  illusion ; 

But  friends  by  the  score 

(For  a  dollar  or  more) 
Will  kindly  remove  the  distressing  delusion. 

"  We'll  murder  no  longer 

By  craft  of  the  stronger," 
Says  one,  and  the  body  is  threatened  with  schism; — 

Rebuked  for  the  use 

(Mother  Church  says  abuse) 
Of  "  Malicious  Animal  Magnetism." 

We  never  need  die, 

If  only  we'll  try 
To  believe  that  we  couldn't,  no,  not  if  we  would. 

We  think  we've  a  pain, 

We've  just  to  maintain 
We  haven't,,  we  wouldn't  have,  not  if  we  should. 

'Tis  quite  a  mistaken 

Idea  we  have  taken 
That  there's  but  one  method  of  race  propagation. 

A  child  now  to  bother 

About  who's  his  father 
Shows  stubborn  contempt  for  the  new  revelation. 

94 


CHRISTIAN    (?)    SCIENCE 

We'll  all  live  together 

Like  brother  and  sister: 
No  longer  the  mother  in  sorrow  shall  bear. 

If  "  Thought  is  a  thing" 

Why  can  we  not  bring 
A  child  into  being  by  thinking  it  there? 

How  can  there  be  sin? 

If  there's  nothing  within 
Or  without  us  for  sin  to  get  busy  upon? 

There  can't  be  transgression 

When  we're  in  possession 
Of  all  that  the  sun,  if  there  were  one,  shone  on. 

'Tis  perfectly  plain, 

Though  speaking  of  pain — 
Enduring  Himself  the  last  ills  of  the  race, 

Christ  meant  us  instead 

To  reverse  what  he  said 
And  wait  for  a  "  Key  "  His  true  meaning  to  place. 

With  subtle  intention, 

He  thus  failed  to  mention, 
While  healing  the  halt  and  the  deaf  and  the  blind, 

The  trick  of  His  healing 

Was  simply  revealing 
A  mortal  deception  of  "  Immortal  Mind  " — 

And  these  "  Signs  and  Wonders  " 

Arose  from  the  blunders 
His  Father  had  made  in  creating  mankind, 

And  until  He  was  ready 

To  send  Mrs.  Eddy 
The  world  must  remain  to  His  purposes  blind. 

95 


LOVE   AND   THE   YEAR 

But  being  quite  human. 

This  high-favored  woman 
Straightway  on  the  truth  a  monopoly  took, 

By  copyright  dower 

Maintaining  the  power 
To  levy  a  tax  at  three  dollars  a  book. 

And  lest  one  should  think 

For  himself,  or  should  drink 
From  a  fountain  of  truth  otherwise  than  the  "  Key," 

It  is  made  so  obscure 

That  one's  never  quite  sure 
But  he  knows  'twould  be  grand  if  he  only  could  see. 

To  further  maintain 

The  control  of  the  rein, 
The  subjects  of  sermons,  the  texts  to  be  read, 

With  no  obvious  reason 

Or  reference  to  season, 
For  each  Sabbath  and  church  are  ordained  by  the  "  Head." 

This  "  reading  "  appears 

In  parallel  tiers — 
A  verse  of  the  "  Key  "  and  a  verse  of  God's  Word. 

A  stranger  to  both 

Might  wonder,  in  sooth, 
Which  one  was  preferred,  Mrs.  E.  or  the  Lord. 

Now,  each  new  secession 

To  "  Science  "  profession 
Must  purchase  a  copy  of  "  Science  and  Health  "- 

Pay  membership  fee, 

Wherever  he  be, 

To  "  Mother  Church,"  Boston,  to  add  to  its  wealth. 

96 


CHRISTIAN    (?)    SCIENCE 

Then  comes  in  addition 

Each  year  an  edition 
Revised  in  an  altered  and  amplified  style. 

Another  taxation 

For  "  new  revelation  " 
Sweeps  over  the  million  of  faithful,  meanwhile 

In  cloistered  seclusion 

And  free  from  intrusion, 
Secure  in  the  comfort  that  riches  afford, 

Lives  out  of  the  strife 

And  the  struggle  of  life 
This  "  Priestess,"  so  called,  of  the  crucified  Lord. 


97 


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